Angel
by Hermione Eveningfall
Summary: Claire has only been living in Manhattan for a couple of weeks, when Peter's health takes a sudden turn for the worst.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Angeles

Author: Hermione Eveningfall

Fandom: Heroes

Pairing: None

Rating: PG

Summary: Claire has only been living in Manhattan for a couple of weeks, when Peter's health takes a sudden turn for the worst.

_Spend all your time waiting  
for that second chance  
for a break that would make it okay  
there's always one reason  
to feel not good enough  
and it's hard at the end of the day  
I need some distraction  
oh beautiful release  
memory seeps from my veins  
let me be empty  
and weightless and maybe  
I'll find some peace tonight_

**"Angel"--Sarah McLachlan**

Chapter 1

Having spent most of my childhood in the heart of Texas, I was not used to the cold at all. The true winter weather hit after my second week living with Peter in Lower Manhattan, and it took a lot of willpower to push myself out of the apartment in order to get to school on time. We had a bad storm during week three, and because most students could walk to the high school, it remained open.

"I'll be home a little later than usual tonight, munchkin," Peter announced, while the two of us sat eating breakfast, watching as the snow came down with relentless ferocity.

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow, shoving a spoonful of cheerios into my mouth.

"Yeah. They needed someone to work from eleven to seven, because one of the other nurses called out sick. If you get hungry before I get back, just make dinner for yourself...don't wait for me." he took a sip of coffee, and I smiled.

"Okay," I replied, checking my watch. "Oh shoot, I should leave now before I get lost in the snow."

"Good idea," Peter agreed with a chuckle, and I went to put my heavy coat on, my boots, gloves, a scarf and hat. As I dressed, I heard my Uncle give a loud sneeze, causing me to jump with surprise. Once I finished getting ready, I went into the kitchen so I could say goodbye.

"Bless you," I said, watching as he blew his nose with a napkin, and Peter looked at me.

"Thanks," he replied, and I gave him a hug.

"You feel like a marshmallow under all that," he teased, and I made a face when I pulled away.

"Haha." I glanced out the window, which had fogged up from the frost. "Well, I guess I'll see you tonight, then?"

Peter nodded, encouraging me to have a good day, and I opened the door.

Once outside, I struggled through the snow drifts, trying to stay on the road when I could where the plows did their best to clear pathways for cars and taxi cabs.

It took an extra fifteen minutes to get to school, and I lost my footing twice, and wound up with mouthfulls of the stuff.

Megan was in my same homeroom, and watched as I removed my soaking wet clothing, shaking her head with amusement. "Mine aren't any better," she admitted, pointing to her own jacket, which had left a rather noticible puddle on the floor next to her chair. "We're the one school on the entire planet that refuses to close when weather's bad. I swear, we could have a nuclear explosion and they'd still make us come in."

I gave a nervous laugh, and fixed my hair, which stuck out every which way after being under my hat.

When attendance was taken and everyone was accounted for, the bell rang signaling that we should head to our first class of the day. I could hear my fellow student's shoes squishing down the hallway, and missed the climate I was used to in Texas. I handled warm weather a lot better, but I guess if you dealt with it from a young age that helped a lot.

The day drug on slowly, and the rest of my classmates seemed more fascinated by the snow falling outside than the teacher.

After lunch, the rest of my classes flew by, and I was eager to get home and change into something more comfortable. It would be weird not meeting Peter when I arrived, though at least I would have some time to myself. That wasn't a terrible prospect, and I could curl up in front of the TV while I plugged through my homework.

I left school at 3:15 as usual, and arrived home by 3:45. The steps were nearly covered in snow, so I had to grip the railing in order to avoid slipping. Of course, if I did fall, I wouldn't have to worry about injuries. My only concern was someone coming to my rescue and watching as my broken bone or scratches healed within a matter of seconds. Sometimes it seriously sucked to be a person with a weird ability, even if it was one that could be particuarily helpful on a daily basis.

The apartment was quiet when I entered, and I gratefully removed my once again sopping coat, hat, scarf, and mittens. I pulled my boots off, wriggling my nearly frozen toes as I padded into the kitchen to grab an afternoon snack. While I in there, I decided to take the dishes out of the drainer, and cleaned up a little.

For the next couple of hours I did my homework, and made myself a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup. It was much too cold for anything else, and I anxiously glanced at the clock when seven rolled around, then seven thirty. When Peter hadn't arrived by eight, I was tempted to call him on his cell, hoping he hadn't gotten hit by a car skidding on ice.

At nine fifteen the front door opened, and I immediately leapt to my feet. "Peter!" I exclaimed, running to greet him, and watched as he removed his own coat and gloves, his teeth chattering the entire time. "Where were you?"

"I had to stay l-l-later than I t-t-thought," he replied, rubbing his arms, and I led him into the living room. "I'm sorry, munchkin...we were so busy that I couldn't give you a call."

"Well, thank goodness you're okay," I breathed. "I thought you'd gotten hurt or something. I was ready to call a search party!"

He managed a weak smile, and I trooped behind him into the kitchen. "Well, I'm fine," he promised. "relatively."

"Relatively?" I leaned against the counter, watching as he fumbled through the cabinets, searching for his box of tea bags.

"I think I'm coming down with a cold," he admitted, coughing into his shoulder, and I raised an eyebrow. "Something's going through work, and I've been sneezing all day."

"That sucks," I replied, and made sure he bundled up in blankets once the tea was ready. "It took me at least two hours just to officially warm up."

Peter sneezed between sips, and I offered to get a box of tissues from the bathroom. "No," he croaked. "I think I'm going to bed early tonight, Munchkin. I really don't feel well." he sighed, and I immediately felt horrible for him.

"I'm sorry," I said, and he gave me a pat on the head.

"It's not your fault," he promised, and I watched as he shuffled off to his bedroom, pausing in the doorway to sneeze again.

"Bless you!" I called, shaking my head, and listened as the door shut behind him. My Uncle sounded truly miserable, and I wished there was something I could do.

I took care of my nightly rituals, and went to bed rather early.

The next morning, Peter stayed in bed while I relaxed around the house. Thankfully the weekend had come, so the two of us had a chance to rest, even if it meant only for two days.

Around lunchtime he came into the living room, his face pale and his nose a light pink. "Hey," he greeted stuffily, and I encouraged him to lay down on the couch. "Thanks," he muttered, closing his eyes.

"I take it you don't feel any better?" I asked, and he couged into a fist, pulling the spare blanket up to his chin.

"My head feels like someone's using a jack hammer on it," Peter replied, "did you sleep okay?"

"Yeah," I replied, reaching over to feeling his forehead. He was too tired to struggle, and I frowned. "You have a fever," I gasped.

"Claire..." Peter started, but I already disappeared into the bathroom. Neither of us had gotten sick since my arrival to New York, and I had no idea where he kept anything. I opened the medicine chest, and found it to be mostly empty, except for a bottle of advil and a prescription allergy pills. I sighed, cursing the fact that my Uncle was so much of a guy that he didn't even think to overstock. In the medicine cabinet at my adoptive parents house, we had tons of things from band-aids to peptobismol.

"You dont own a thermometer," I announced when I returned to the living room, and Peter raised an eyebrow. "You're a nurse for pete's sake! You'd think you would have enough sense to stock your medicine cabinet!"

"Sorry?" He replied, and I sighed.

"Listen, I should run to the drug store and get some things."

Peter glared. "You will not," he argued. "Claire, I don't want you running around the city on your own, and not in this w..." he paused, and sneezed, cringing afterwards.

"Geshuntite," I said, offering him a handful of tissues.

"Thanks," he muttered. "And I'll be fine. I wouldn't sit so close, or you'll catch this."

"You think?" I asked with a smirk. "Peter, I haven't been sick for ten years. I doubt I can get sick given my...condition."

He broke into a fit of coughing, and curled into a ball. "Can you check and see if the heat's turned up?" he asked, bundling his feet in the blankets, and I glanced at the thermostat.

"Sure," I replied, and stood, walking over to read the dial. "Yeah...we turned it up to 75. Did you want it higher?" I asked, and Peter looked at me.

"I'm freezing," he muttered. "I feel like I need another six blankets before I'll even start feeling warm."

I sat down on the leather chair that was a few feet from the couch, and hugged my knees to my chest.

Peter was feeling too sick to join me for dinner that night, but I insisted he have a bit of soup. "I don't think I can stomach anything," he groaned, struggling to sit up, and I smiled.

"You have to eat," I replied. "come on." I took a spoonful, and eased it towards his mouth, which he kept shut tight.

"Mmmmmm," he argued, and I made an airplane noise as my Dad used to do when I was a kid.

"Open the hatch...come on," I begged, and Peter gave me a nasty look. "How can you say no to campbells?" I added, and he raised an eyebrow.

"Easy," He growled. "NO."

I sighed, defeated. "Fine," I snapped. "I'm leaving the soup here, and you can eat it when you want." I stood up, and Peter watched with a frown as I stormed into my bedroom. I sat watching the snow fall, illuminated by the street lights. I was far from a nurse, and it annoyed me to no end that Peter wouldn't even follow the basic instructions for making himself better. He worked in a hospital for God's sake, and should know better!

About ten minutes later, there was a light knock on the door, and I glanced over my shoulder. Peter stood with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, and eyed me sternly.

"I don't appreciate being talked back to, Claire," he said, and I frowned. "Sometimes I think you forget who's in charge here."

"I just wish you'd take better care of yourself," I muttered. "Is that so terrible?"

"I think I'm old enough to handle my own problems," He growled, and I raised my eyes.

"I'm sorry if I offended you," I said. "I just hate seeing you feel sick."

Peter rubbed his nose, and pulled the blanket more tightly around himself. "Well, in the future, just remember who you're speaking to, all right?" he asked, and I nodded, swallowing past a small lump in my throat.

"Good night," I called as he left, shutting the door behind him without another word. I sighed, glancing at Munchkin, and raised my arms with frustration. "What am I going do with him, huh?" I asked, and the fish stopped swimming, it's mouth opening and closing. "My thoughts exactly," I growled, leaning my chin in my palm.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Peter stayed in bed all of Sunday, and everytime I checked in on him, he lay in a tiny ball under the covers trembling.

While he was asleep, I trooped down to the corner drug store, and bought some supplies. Walking through the city alone wasn't a fear of mine, considering I couldn't get hurt if some robber decided to hold me up at gun point.

I arrived to find my Uncle still asleep, snoring loudy as a result of his congestion. I gave his shoulder a shake, which only resulted in his making a small noise and turning over.

"Peter...come on," I sighed, and shook him a bit more roughly. He turned back, narrowing his eyes at me with annoyance.

"What?" he croaked, and I held up a thermometer. "Claire, you went out alone?" he asked, and I raised my arms.

"I'm perfectly capable of defending myself," I promised. "It's not like I can get hurt, remember?"

He drug a hand across his nose, and leaned against the headboard for a couple of minutes. "Okay." he coughed roughly into a first, watching as I opened the package, and used my shirt to clean off the end of the device. After a few seconds I encouraged Peter to put the thermometer under his tongue, and we sat waiting for it to beep.

When it did, I took a look at the numbers, and shook my head. "One hundred and three. You're burning up."

"I think I have the flu," He muttered. "that would figure." Peter slid back under the covers, and I put the thermometer on the night stand.

"You're not going to work tomorrow," I replied, and he gave me a look. "I'm serious, Peter. You can barely get out of bed."

"I wasn't planning on..." he paused, sneezing into his palm, and I cringed at the sound. "Ugh." he accepted the handful of tissues I gave him, and blew his nose. "I'm sorry," he whispered, and I smirked.

"You're sick," I replied. "No big deal."

"You just made the it's gross face," he laughed weakly, and I stuck out my tongue.

"Well, I...I've never been real comfortable around sick people," I admitted.

"How come you're taking care of me?" he asked, and I shrugged.

"Because you saved my life?" It wasn't a hard question to answer, and Peter gave me the once over, before bundling under the covers again. "I feel like I owe you one."

"Mmmm." he closed his eyes, and I watched as he used the tissue to rub at his nose again, and I put the small trash can by his bed so he didn't have to get up and throw it away. "Thank you," he croaked, and I nodded.

That night I made myself dinner again, and brought him another bowl of broth. I learned not to force him to eat if he didn't want to, but he seemed to realize just how worried I was when he wouldn't. I put my hands on my hips as he took small spoonfulls, and asked if I could bring him a glass of water.

"Sure," I replied. "Be right back." I hurried into the kitchen, and filled a glass before heading back to the master bedroom.

That night I had trouble sleeping, listening to my Uncle cough repeatedly, and wished I could skip school the next day. He would kill me, though, but I wanted to make sure he had everything he could possibly need right at his fingertips.

"Learn something," he called after I stocked his night stand with tissues, day quil, ibuprofin, and a bottle of water.

"Cute," I said, and he waved weakly, the effort only causing him to break into another coughing fit.

When I got to school, my friends noticed how distracted I seemed, and eventually asked what had happened. "You're usually a lot more poised," Rose pointed out, and I looked at her over my lunch tray.

"My Uncle's sick," I explained, and she frowned, sharing a glance with Megan and Angela. "He has the flu."

"Oh man." Angela leaned back in her chair. "It's that time of year. Has he been to the doctor?"

"No," I growled, stabbing at my meatloaf. School lunches weren't always the most appetizing, and I tried to eat as healthy as possible when I had to buy. "He's an idiot when it comes to being sick. You should have seen his medicine chest...practically empty."

Rose laughed at the expression on my face. "Guys are all like that," she pointed out. "They act like they're invincible, and throw a gasket if we try to get in their way."

"Tell me about it," I muttered. "He yelled at me the other night because I was trying to get him to eat a bowl of soup for dinner."

"Maybe just leave him alone for a while? I know when my parents get sick they turn evil," Megan pointed out, and I smirked at her comment. "Like my merely being there pisses them off."

"Yeah," I sighed. "I guess I just feel like I should do something. He took me in...I don't want to just let him suffer."

My friends looked at each other, just as the bell rang, signaling that we had to go to our next class. I was bogged down with homework that night, which would at least distract me from Peter's illness for a few hours. There was a World Culture's quiz on Friday, and I had to start studying.

I got home at the normal time, and was glad to see my Uncle sitting up on the living room couch, still wrapped in blankets and watching TV. He sneezed just as I shut the door behind me, and I removed the backpack from my shoulders, setting it on the floor so I could take off my coat.

"Bless you," I announced, and he looked behind him.

"Thank you," he replied. "How was school, Munchkin?" He watched as I carried my backpack to the leather chair I normally sat in, and unzipped my it.

"Crazy," I said. "I have so much homework, and a quiz on Friday."

He nodded in understanding, before grabbing another tissue from the box on the table, and sneezing again.

"Bless you twice," I chuckled, and he leaned back, closing his eyes. "So what did you do all day?"

"Sleep," he muttered. "I literally just got up about ten minutes before you got home."

"You should see a doctor," I suggested. "Especially since you started getting sick Friday."

"I hate doctors," he shivered.

"Any reason?" I asked, flipping open my math book, and clicked my mechanical pencil so some lead came out.

"I guess because I was always going them as a kid," he replied, and I stared. "It's nothing," he promised. "I'm more of a solve your own problems kind of person. Plus, I have you to take care of me." he gave me a playful wink, and I stuck out my tongue.

"Yeah, but quite frankly I'm no good at it," I replied. "I only piss you off when I try anything."

"That's not true," Peter argued, and I shook my head.

"Never mind," I said. "I'm gonna do my homework in my room. It's easier to spread my stuff out that way."

He watched as I packed my backpack again, and followed as I headed down the hallway. I plopped down into my desk chair, putting my face in my hands. I had absolutely no motivation to do any schoolwork...it was so overwhelming.

Peter came into my room shortly afterwards, and I turned to face him. Last time he stood in my doorway, he lost his temper, and I braced myself waiting for it to happen again. "Claire, I want you to know that if I offended you at all this weekend I'm sorry," he admitted, and I started to respond, but he held up his hand so he could finish. "I can be an ass when I'm sick. I have nothing against you."

"I know," I replied. "I'm just tired."

"I would come over and hug you, but even if you are indestructable, I don't want to risk it," Peter admitted, and I got up, ignoring his comment and gave him a hug. He stroked my hair, before turning and giving the third sneeze for the evening.

"Bless you," I said, and he used a crumped tissue from his sweatpant pocket to give his nose another blow.

"I feel like I'm gonna sneeze my head off," he muttered, and I grinned.

"Doubtful," I replied, just as he released another, and I encouraged him to go back to bed.

"Good idea," he sighed. "So just keep that in mind, okay, munchkin? I still love you even if I say things that may make it seem otherwise."

I nodded, smiling when he shut the door more gently this time around, and I tried to turn my concentration on homework again.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The next morning, I stumbled out of bed and went to check on Peter before taking a shower. He didn't look any better, and in fact, started coughing so hard that it became difficult to take a deep breath. I felt my heart racing, and gave him a couple of pats on the back, immediately offering the half-empty bottle of water. When he managed to stop coughing long enough to take a sip, I felt his forehead, not pleased by the amount of heat radiating from his skin.

"Jesus," I muttered, and took the thermometer, easing it under his tongue. Peter didn't fight me, which meant he was more than likely feeling worse. "Oh my God." I gasped, noticing his temperature had gone up to 104, and I wished I had a car so I could rush him to the hospital.

Immediately, I bolted for the kitchen, and filled a bowl with cool water, grabbing a fresh wash cloth from the linen closet.

It was scary how quickly Peter went downhill, considering he was sitting up and watching television the previous afternoon. I checked the clock, and decided right then and there I would play hookey. My Uncle was in no position to be left alone, not with that fever.

"Claire, shouldn't you be going to school?" Peter croaked, watching as I dipped the wash cloth into the bowl, and began to blot his forehead and cheeks.

"I should," I replied, "but I am not leaving you alone today. If I can't bring your temperature down, I'm getting some help." He closed his eyes again, and I felt a lump forming in my throat. My Uncle was my best friend, and to see him like this broke my heart. "Who can I call?" I asked. "Peter, I can't..." I squeezed his hand, which was freezing.

"Munchkin," He whispered, returning the gesture.

I folded the wash cloth and lay it over his forehead, stepping out of the room so I could grab my cell phone. I knew exactly who to call, it wasn't difficult to think about. Scrolling down to my biological father's number, I immediately pushed the "send" button, and waited while I listened to the ring on the other end.

"Hello?" His voice sounded strangely comforting, despite the fact that I hardly knew him.

"Dad?" It felt weird calling him that, even if it were true.

"Claire? Wha'ts going on?" He asked, and I felt the tears start to fall down my cheeks. I sunk onto my bed, sniffing hard, and tried to compose myself.

"Peter's sick," I squeaked. "he's really sick."

When Nathan didn't respond, part of me wondered if he hung up. "Hello?" I spoke up, glancing at my phone, hoping the connection hadn't been lost.

"I'm sorry." Nathan's voice appeared again, and I sighed with relief. "You just caught me off guard for a second. What exactly is going on?"

I took a deep breath, hating that I was loosing control so easily. "He said he thought he was getting a cold on Friday night, and he's been getting worse."

"Has he been to a doctor yet?" Nathan asked, and I fought an eye roll; he sounded like my friends at school.

"No," I squeaked. "He won't go."

"I see." He sighed, and I could feel the tension, knowing how uncomfortable my presence was in Nathan's life. He didn't know about me until a few weeks ago. I found my birth mother, and she contacted him...it was amazing how far a little research could get you. Unfortunately, it wasn't the happy ending I expected.

"What can I do?" I asked. "Can you come?"

"I'm afraid not," Nathan replied. "It's a little crazy right now with the campaign. I'm out of town taking care of some business, unfortunately."

I cursed under my breath, not sure what to do. If Nathan couldn't come and check on his brother, there wasn't much else to do except wait and hope I didn't have to call 9-1-1. "Peter needs a doctor, and house calls are so expensive. He's too sick to go out, and he'd be mortified if I called an ambulence."

"I'll take care of it," Nathan promised. "Just sight tight."

I nodded, wetting my lips, and wondering how he would do so. "Okay," I replied. "Bye." I hung up, and covered my face with my hand, letting my emotions go.

When I finally calmed down, I went back into the sick room, and found Peter missing from the bed. Startled, I immediately ran out, but did not need to search long. I heard him throwing up from behind the bathroom door, and knocked a few minutes later.

"Peter?" I called, and he opened it after flushing the toilet, his face covered with sweat. He pressed the back of his hand against his lips, and I took his arm, not trusting him to walk on his own. "Come on, I've got you." I supported him as we made our way back to his room, and eased him under the blankets.

I sat beside the bed for the next couple of hours, deciding to bring my homework in so I would at least be productive. Peter slept for the most part, his breathing growing increasingly labored. When he would start to cough, I had to ease him into a sitting position so he wouldn't choke.

Around lunchtime the front door buzzed, and I looked up, not wanting to let go of my Uncle's hand for a second. When the door buzzed again, I released my grip, and pulled the blanket over his chest, not wanting him to freeze.

I went to the front door, and pressed the call box button. "Who is it?" I spoke, not expecting any visitors.

"Dr. Mendez. I was sent here by a Mr. Petrelli?

My heart nearly leapt to my throat, and I realized that was what Nathan had meant by he would take care of everything. "Oh God," I breathed, and pressed the button again. "Yes, come on up. Four D." I stepped back afterwards, and wrapped my arms around myself.

When Dr. Mendez arrived, I let him in. He was a large man with dark skin and a full beard, like one of those old fashioned physicians.

"My name's Claire," I greeted, shaking hands with him. "My Uncle's sick," I explained, and led him into the bedroom. "We think it's the flu."

"There is a bad strain of that going around," Dr. Mendez replied, and I sat down, watching as he prepared for the check up. Peter was barely lucid while the doctor listened to his heart and breathing, peering into his eyes, ears, and throat as well. "Has he been taking any over the counter medication?" He asked, I nodded, chewing anxiously on my nail.

"Um...I've been giving him the dayquill/nyquill stuff, and he's been taking ibuprofin for his fever. Neither seem to be doing any good, though."

"Hmmm." Dr. Mendez listened to Peter's lungs again, and shook his head. "It's sounds as though it's going to his chest. You should have contacted me sooner."

I looked at him, and watched as Peter cringed in pain. Part of me wondered if this was something to do with his powers, and not a normal issue. If it was power-related, then there was nothing Dr. Mendez could prescribe that would help, and I feared I would have to sit and watch my Uncle die.

"I'm sorry," I squeaked, and he shook his head, scribbling something down on a piece of paper.

"Here are some medications that may help break up the congestion. If he doesn't improve over the next day or so, don't hesitate to call me again. Here is my number."

"How much do we owe..." I started, and Dr. Mendez shook his head.

"The bill has already been paid for," he explained.

"Oh," I breathed, and sure enough...my father had done what he could to help, even if it wasn't a personal visit. "Thank you very much." I swallowed, and watched as he left the apartment, before glancing down at the paper he'd written on. "Mucinex," I muttered, and went back into Peter's room, where he lay sleeping, and I gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"Munchkin?" he whispered, his eyes opening slowly, and I smiled.

"I'm here," I promised. "The doctor just came. You're not doing so good." I cocked my head to one side.

"I'm so tired." he turned away, and I sat down in my chair, folding my hands on my lap.

"Then just sleep," I encouraged, and he moved a little, trying to get comfortable.

I put on my coat, hat, scarf and boots, needing to get the medicine the doctor prescribed for Peter's cough. I didn't care about the weather...it was raining ice; I could hear it against the window. I had to get my Uncle better, and nothing would stop me.

"Shit," I cursed, stepping outside, and shielded my eyes against the rain. My cheeks were burning from the cold, and I nearly collapsed from exhaustion by the time I reached the drug store. I stood staring at the CLOSED sign on the window, and felt fear immediately rising in my throat. "No," I gasped. "Dammit." I wanted to break in and steal the medicine, but I wouldn't be able to live with the guilt.

It took me a little longer to walk home, because I was blinded by tears. I collapsed onto the front step of my building, and hugged my knees to my chest. _Please don't let him die, _I thought, only deciding to go in when I realized my tears were quickly turning to ice on my cheeks.

I spent most of the night in Peter's room, watching as he struggled between consciousness and unconsciousness, and eventually I fell asleep with my forehead on the mattress. My cellphone woke me around midnight, and I checked the caller ID once I realized what the noise was. Angela was calling, and I immediately answered, my voice sounding groggy.

"Where have you been?" she demanded, and I looked at Peter, who was still asleep, his mouth open slightly as his nose was so stuffed up.

"What are you doing up this late?" I asked, and there was a pause.

"I freaked out," she admitted. "I woke up because I had a feeling something bad was happening, and I couldn't figure out what. So I decided, shit, Claire hasn't been at school for two days...what if something's wrong?"

I stood so I could talk out in the hall, not wanting to accidentally wake Peter from his much needed sleep. "Sorry," I apologized. "it's my Uncle, as I said. I had to stay home because he's doing pretty bad. Doctor came over, and I couldn't get the medicine he recommended, because the damn drugstore was closed."

"Oh," Angela replied. "Claire, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," I squeaked. "I'm just scared."

"Well, is there anything I can do?" She asked, and I managed a faint smile.

"Not at this hour," I replied.

"I'll be sending prayers your way, then," she promised, and after we hung up, I leaned against the wall. I was exhausted, but didn't dare shut my eyes. I feared if I did, Peter would be torn away fro me, and I wouldn't be able to say goodbye. I couldn't afford to loose him, not after all he did for me. _Save the cheerleader, save the world. _I listened as he gave a cough, and immediately rushed back into the sick room, grateful to see he was still asleep. "I wish there was someway I could save you," I thought.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next morning I managed to buy the medication recommended by the doctor, and gave Peter his first dose around breakfast. My teachers would probably kill me for taking this much time off fro school, but Angela promised to give them an explination.

Peter's temperature went up drastically at night, and he seemed to feel worse in general between dinner time and midnight.

When we reached the forth day of this flu from hell, I started to loose hope that he would recover at all. I sat in my own bedroom after a while, needing some time to decompress.

Fiddling with my cell phone, I thought about making another call to Nathan, needing to talk to someone who understood Peter better than anyone.

When I finally did get up the guts to call his number, I sat looking up at the blue ceiling. This had been one of the worst weeks of my life, not counting the homecoming incident where I lost one of my good friends due to Sylar.

"Hello?" Nathan responded immediately again, and I tried to keep my voice steady as I spoke.

"I'm sorry I'm calling you again," I admitted, feeling stupid.

"It's okay," he promised. "How's Pete?"

I closed my eyes, the tears threatening to spill out all over again. "He's still sick," I whispered.

"Worse than before or is he improving at all?" Nathan sounded as though he were driving, because I could hear the rumble of an engine in the background.

"I'm so scared," I choked, and the tears finally came. "Sorry," I squeaked. "I just...I don't know what else to do. The doctor came a few days ago, and I've been afraid to call him again."

"Whoa, whoa, Claire, calm down," Nathan begged. "It's going to be fine, okay? I'm back in New York."

My heart leapt with relief...he was home! I immediately started to cry again, all of my fear and anxiety deciding to come out after being pent up for the entire week.

"Claire, please stop crying," Nathan told me. "You're breaking my heart here."

The comment made my breath catch in my throat...I didn't think Nathan cared much about his illegitimate daughter, considering how distant he acted around me when we first met.

"I'm just so tired," I sobbed. "I can't do this alone anymore. I need..."

"I'm coming over," Nathan promised. "Just hang in there until then, okay hon?"

I nodded, though no one was around to see it. "Okay," I squeaked, and after Nathan told me to expect him in the next half hour, we hung up. I sat staring at my cell phone, thoroughly mortified that I had lost it like that. Very rarely did I break down, but this entire ordeal was ripping me apart thread by thread.

I managed to stand up after a few minutes, and went into my Uncle's room. Peter moved slightly when I squeezed his hand, but he didn't open his eyes.

"I know you'll probably kill me for this later," I started, "but Nathan's coming."

Peter merely coughed in response, and I leaned back in my chair, not letting go of his hand.

Nathan arrived around one thirty, dressed in a formal business suit. He came right through the door without hesitation, and encouraged me to step back for a few minutes. "Pete, what the hell are you doing to your niece?" he asked, feeling his brother's forehead, and cursing under his breath. "Has he woken up at all today?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Only once, but he can't keep his eyes open for too long." I wrapped my arms around myself, feeling slightly sick to my stomach.

"And the doctor said...what?" He asked, and I looked at Nathan.

"He said to call him again if Peter wasn't getting better after I gave him the medicine he suggested," I admitted, blushing. Peter started to cough again, and Nathan rolled the covers down, easing his brother into a sitting position so he could breathe a little easier.

"So you didn't call Dr. Mendez again I take it?" Nathan asked, and I shook my head. "Why?"

"Because I was hoping for a miracle," I squeaked. "I didn't want Peter to have to go to the hospital."

"Well, looks like he may have to go there anyway," Nathan replied, and I sniffed, looking down at my feet. "Claire, the house calls were on me. You shouldn't have hesitated if you thought Peter was getting worse. I know you're probably scared, and believe me...I dealt with this guy my entire life. This is probably the worst I've seen him since he was a kid."

"He did mention he had to go to doctor's a lot when he was younger," I replied, and Nathan nodded, rubbing a hand over his face once Peter was laying down again.

"Yeah," he muttered. "Okay, we're going to have to bring him to the ER, and maybe they can give him an IV or something. The fever's what's worrying me...his heart might not be able to handle it for too long at this rate."

I sniffed hard, and watched as my biological father collected some clean clothes from Peter's drawers, shoving them into one of his backpacks.

The two of us eased Peter out of bed, which was no easy task. "Hang in there, buddy," Nathan encouraged, as Peter clung helplessly to him.

"What are you doing here, Nathan?" Peter whispered, and my father looked at my Uncle with a raised eyebrow.

"Your niece gave me a call," he replied, and Peter looked at me. "She sounded kind of hysterical, so I figured I'd give her a hand."

"Hmmm." Peter coughed hard when we got outside, and I immediately wrapped my arm around him to try and include more body heat.

He nearly collapsed halfway from the apartment to Nathan's car, and my father had to carry him the rest of the way. "Jesus," Nathan grunted once we were all inside the black corvet, and I looked at my father once he started to climb into the driver's seat.

"Can I drive?" I asked, and he raised an eyebrow with uncertainty. "I have my license, you know...and I don't think I'll get a chance to drive something like this again."

Nathan laughed, and handed me the keys. "Sure," he replied, and I grinned, taking over what he started.

I had to be careful driving such a nice car in this kind of weather, especially with one passenger who was barely lucid. Nathan gave me directions to the local hospital, and told me to take my time.

"Yeah," I agreed. "I don't think I'll be speeding much in this weather."

"You're a good driver," Nathan complimented, and I felt my cheeks grow warm. "How old are you now?"

"Sixteen," I replied. "I turn seventeen in April."

"Good for you." Nathan smiled, glancing over his shoulder to check on Peter, who used the backseat as a bed for the time being. "Dammit...we really should have gotten him to the hospital sooner," he muttered, and I kept my eyes on the road, not wanting to make any mistakes.

We pulled into the ER parking lot, and once I found a spot close enough, we eased Peter out of the car.

"Do you think this has something to do with..." I stopped in mid-sentence, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention, and Nathan looked at me.

"Something like this did happen before," He admitted. "Only a little worse than what we're dealing with."

"When?" I gasped, surprised Peter hadn't mentioned it. Of course, I knew he wouldn't bring something like that up out of the blue.

"Once they let him out of jail after he apparently rescued you. He passed out on the sidewalk, and was in a coma for two weeks."

I stopped walking, my breath making white puffs in mid air. Nathan encouraged me to follow him, not wanting to waste anymore time. There was a small crowd in the waiting room, and Nathan went to sign his brother in at the front desk. I sat with Peter, keeping his hand in mine, and an arm around his shoulders as he shivered practically non stop.

"There's a wait, of course," Nathan growled. "Apparently everyone and their mother is here with this flu." He looked at me, and I sniffed, using my free hand to rub my nose. "Claire, he's going to be fine. He's been through hell and back before, and has scared me shitless more than once when we were kids."

I nodded, using Peter's shoulder as a leaning post. The heat coming from his body actually felt nice, considering how cold I was.

"Thanks for being here," I said, and Nathan nodded.

"It's the least I could do," He replied.

The doctor finally took us in, and hooked Peter up to an IV in one of the open cubicles. If my Uncle were actually awake and alert right now, he would have been positively humiliated. Nathan kept his arm around me while we watched them draw blood, and run other tests that would help with treatment. Once the tests were done, all we could do was sit and wait. Thankfully Nathan had no immediate plans, and contacted his wife so she wouldn't worry about him.

"She wants to meet you," He explained, after hanging up the phone, and I stared.

"Your wife?" I asked, and he nodded.

"She knew about your Mom, but as I didn't realize you even existed until now, I couldn't tell her."

I smiled, listening as Peter coughed a couple of times, his eyes opening halfway. "Peter!" I gasped, and rushed to the side of the bed, peering down at his face.

"Where am I?" he croaked, and Nathan joined me a few moments later, his arms folded.

"I had to drag your ass to the emergency room," he explained, and Peter looked around, startled by the change in location. "You had Claire scared half to death, little brother." Nathan felt Peter's forehead, sighing.

"Munchkin?" Peter whispered, and I nodded.

"Munchkin?" Nathan repeated, and I rolled my eyes a little.

"It's his nickname for me," I explained, and Nathan snorted.

"Cute," he replied, and I stuck out my tongue.

"I'm right here," I explained, and Peter reached up to touch my face.

"Are you okay?" he asked, and I choked on a sob bubbling up in my throat, but I refused to start crying in front of him. Not when we were so uncertain.

"Not really," I admitted, and I felt Nathan rubbing my back.

"I'm so sorry," Peter apologized, swallowing past his sore throat, and I smiled.

"You have to take better care of yourself," Nathan warned. "You can't always be in two places at once." he winked at me, and I leaned against my biological father, feeling a surge of comfort. Nothing like I felt when I was with my adoptive parents, but it was something. A connection that I didn't share with my other family.

When the doctor finally returned with Peter's test results, it was determined that he did have the flu as we expected. "He's teetering on the edge of pneumonia, so good thing you came in," he announced, and I felt Nathan's grip strengthen on my shoulder. "Mr. Petrelli, I would like to keep you overnight for observation. Your temperature is still high, and we'd like to keep you on IV for a while."

Peter looked at me with anxious eyes, and I kissed his cheek.

"I'll be okay," I promised, and Nathan nodded.

"We'll get you in the morning," he added, and Peter squeezed my hand.

"I love you," he croaked, and I gave my Uncle a hug, burrying my face against his shoulder. Nathan watched as the two of us said good night, and Peter made his brother promise to keep an eye on me that night while he was missing.

"Peter, I wouldn't mind except I have my own family I've been neglecting all week with the business trip," Nathan argued, and Peter narrowed his eyes once I put my coat and hat on.

"I don't need a babysitter," I insisted. "I've stayed home by myself before."

"I'll make sure she gets in safely, Pete," Nathan promsied, and gave his brother a hug.

"Thanks," Peter replied, watching us leave the hospital with sad eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Nathan brought me back to Peter's apartment around ten o'clock, and the two of us trooped upstairs. "If you really need me to stay, I'll call my wife and..." he began, and I glanced at him with a smile.

"No," I promised. "I'll be okay. I know you're not exactly comfortable around me." As much as I tried to establish a relationship with my biological father, I knew it was an impossible task.

"Claire," Nathan argued, and I raised an eyebrow. "Understand the position I'm in. Running for congress, and I discover out of the blue that I have a daughter who's mother is not my wife. Could you imagine how that would look to the public?"

"Trust me, I do," I replied, unlocking the door and entering the empty apartment. Nathan followed me in, and shut the door behind him.

"I'm not trying to cut you out of my life, Claire," He insisted. "I know you had nothing to do with how things turned out. But right now isn't the best time for us to get to know each other."

"I called you because of Peter," I explained. "As I said before he adopted me, I wasn't asking for anything. I don't want you to feel obligated to bond with me if it's not what you want."

Nathan watched as I removed my winter garments, rubbing my hands once they were bare.

"Claire, if I come off as cold hearted I don't mean to," He insisted, encouraging me to join him in the living room. I couldn't fight my father for long...it was against my better nature to be nasty on purpose. Nathan looked truly sincere, and I sat down on the couch beside him, keeping my hands on my lap. I watched as he reached into his coat pocket, pulling out his wallet. "I have two boys from my current wife," he explained, showing me their school pictures. I took the photos into my hand, and compared them.

"What are their names?" I asked, and Nathan looked at me.

"Monty and Simon," he replied. "My wife is Heidi." he showed me another picture of a beautiful woman in her mid-thirties, with coal black hair and bright green eyes.

"She's pretty," I complimented, and my father smiled when I returned the photos, and watched as he returned them to his wallet.

"She was in a wheel chair for several months," he explained, and my eyes widened. "We were in a car accident one night, and she was paralyzed from the waist down."

I felt my throat choke up a little, and lowered my head.

"I'm sorry," I squeaked, and he nodded.

"Thank you." he cleared his throat. "One day I'll bring you to my house where you can meet her and the boys, but when the timing is right. I'm not trying to drive you away, Claire. If you ever need to talk about anything, about..." he paused. "You have my number. I'll answer if I can."

I gave my father a hug, and eventually the two of us stood up.

"Thanks," I squeaked, and he kissed my forehead, before heading towards the front door.

"Listen...how many days of school have you played hookey?" He turned back in my direction, and I chewed on my lower lip.

"Three," I admitted, and he smirked. "I'll probably get detention, especially since I won't have a doctor's note."

"I doubt that," Nathan replied. "Get some sleep, and I'll come over to pick you up in the morning."

I waved as my father left, and stood gazing around the empty apartment. It felt strange being here this late at night without my Uncle, and I missed him terribly.

That night I stripped the dirty sheets from his bed and put fresh ones on, deciding to sleep in his room for a change. I tossed and turned, dreaming that Peter was being tortured instead of Jackie at the homecoming, and no matter how close I got to saving him an invisible force would keep me away.

When I shot awake, it was three in the morning, and I decided to go into the living room and watch television. Unfortunately I fell asleep there, and didn't wake up again until the door buzzed.

Nathan came up when I let him in, and waited for me while I threw on a pair of clothes. I didn't have time to take a shower, and at the moment I didn't care.

"Did you sleep okay last night?" He asked as we drove to the hospital, and I leaned against the window, my eyes drifting shut with the gentle rocking motion of the car. "Claire?" he looked at me while we were at a stop light, and I gave a snort.

"Mmm? Oh, sorry," I yawned. "No, no I didn't."

"Yeah, neither did I," Nathan admitted. When we arrived at the hospital, we wasted no time going up to Peter's room on the forth floor. He was sleeping soundly when we opened the door, and I listened as the heart monitor beeped at a steady pace.

"Peter?" I was the first one to speak, and he moved slightly, opening his eyes, and turning towards me.

"Claire." He cleared his throat, and I came right to his bedside, placing a hand against his forehead.

"Your fever's gone down a lot," I gasped, and looked at Nathan, who smiled at me.

"How are you feeling, Pete?" Nathan asked, as I gave my Uncle a hug, closing my eyes when he kissed the top of my head.

"A lot better," he replied, though he still sounded congested. "The doctor said I could go home today."

"Good." Nathan shoved his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. "You scared us both last night," he admitted, and Peter looked sheapish.

"I guess I wasn't thinking," he answered, just as the doctor came in to do a morning check up on his patient.

"Ah, good morning," Dr. Anderson announced, and I stepped aside so he could have better access to my Uncle. "Mr. Petrelli, are you feeling better today?"

"Yes," Peter replied. "I'm still a little sore and tired, though."

"That'll last for at least another week I'm afraid," Dr. Anderson warned. "You had a pretty bad strain of the flu. We had to come in twice last night and try to stabilize your temperature, which kept wanting to shoot up."

Peter looked at me, and I tried to smile, but it was hard. He excused himself to sneeze, and I glanced at Nathan with a raised eyebrow, immediately turning my attention back to my Uncle.

"Bless you," I said with a sigh, and he sniffed, reaching for a tissue from the bedside table.

"I missed you, munchkin," Peter whispered once the doctor finished with the tests, and signed Peter's release form.

"I missed you too," I agreed. "I slept in your bed...hope you don't mind."

He gave my cheek a slight pinch, and I made a face, watching as he went into the bathroom to change out of the hospital gown and into his clothes. Nathan and I heard him sneeze again, and I shook my head with a laugh.

"I'm surprised his powers don't start going haywire the way he sneezes," I whispered, and my father gave my arm a nudge.

"Better bundle up, man...It's pretty cold this morning," Nathan announced when Peter came out of the bathroom, still looking pale and weary. He slipped into his jacket, and a nurse eventually arrived with a wheel chair.

"Oh, I don't need that," Peter began, and she gave him a look.

"It's mandatory for all patients who are leaving the premesis. You're not being given any special treatment just because you work here, Peter Petrelli." she gave him a grin, and he rolled his eyes, sitting on the leather chair.

"Who wants to do the honors?" Peter asked, looking from his brother to myself, and I took hold of the wheel chair handles. "Thank you," he added, and I gave a nod, starting to push him down the hallway.

When we got home, Nathan gave his brother a hand getting up the stairs, and ordered him straight back to bed.

"You didn't have to do any of this, Nathan," Peter spoke, once he was settled under the covers, and I sat by his feet.

"Yes I did," Nathan replied. "Clearly you have to start getting your priorities straight."

"Meaning?" Peter raised an eyebrow, and I squeezed his foot, which caused him to jolt with surprise. "That tickled," he laughed, and I grinned.

"Meaning I know you want what's best for Claire, but she's sixteen years old and very mature for her age. You don't have to be everywhere at once."

"He's trying to say don't push yourself so hard," I translated, and Nathan winked at me as my Uncle pulled me into a headlock, which eventually ended in a hug.

"I should get going...but if you need anything, call me," Nathan insisted, and I eventually let go of Peter to give him a hug as well.

"Thanks so much again, Dad," I whispered, and his eyes widened at the choice of words.

"You're welcome," he replied, and saluted the both of us before heading out of the bedroom. When we both heard the door shut, Peter patted the bed and encouraged me to come up and join him for a few minutes.

"What you did took a lot of guts," he admitted, and I felt a blush creeping into my cheeks.

"I wanted to take care of you myself," I replied. "but you were just getting so bad, and I couldn't..." I swallowed hard. "I thought maybe he knew more than I did, and..."

"You thought it had to do with my powers?" Peter asked, and I gave a small nod, embarassed. "Claire, one thing you'll learn about me is I'm not the healthiest person on the planet. I tend to get sick a lot, usually just catching colds and such, and depending on what's going on with my life they can get bad pretty fast. I only want what's best for you, munchkin, especially when you're under my roof."

"You sound like my Dad...Mr. Bennet, that is," I replied, and he gave a small smirk. "He's always trying to protect me, but just like I told him--you can't protect me forever. It's impossible."

Peter brushed my hair away from my face, and kissed my forehead. "That doesn't mean I won't spend my life trying," he whispered, and I looked down at my lap. "Go and get some sleep, huh? In your own bed."

"I skipped school the past few days, I thought I should tell you," I admitted, and Peter nodded.

"I know," he said, and I turned, heading down the hallway.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I slept like the dead that night, and that was something I desparately needed after what I went through all week. In fact, I was sleeping so soundly that I didn't even hear the door open when my Uncle tiptoed in early the next morning to check on me. He smiled, walking softly towards my nightstand, and turned off the alarm that I automatically set for school. Afterwards, he adjusted my blankets so I was comfortably covered, and left just as quickly as he came.

When I awoke, it was after ten o'clock, and I felt a wave of panic wash over me.

"Oh my God," I croaked, practically falling out of bed in my desparation. "Oh my God." I couldn't afford to miss another day of school, and nearly ran headfirst into the side of the doorway as I bolted for the hall.

"Where do you think you're going?" Peter asked coming out of the bathroom just as I prepared to go in, and I stared at him, open-mouthed.

"I overslept!" I squeaked. "I'm already three hours late for school."

"Yeah?" he raised an eyebrow, amused by my slightly hysterical reaction.

"Yeah?!" I threw my arms in the air. "This makes five days!" I held up one hand to elaborate using all five fingers. "I'm gonna be so screwed!"

"No you're not," He promised. "I turned off your alarm this morning."

Suddenly, the panic disappeared, and I swore I was going to faint. Peter put his hands on my shoulders, and turned me in the direction of my bedroom.

"Why?" I squeaked, and once we reached my doorway, he pulled me into a comforting hug.

"Nathan called the school and explained everything to your principal," Peter replied, and I collapsed onto the bed, allowing him to sit beside me. "Claire, you needed go to get some sleep."

"So I won't get expelled?" I asked, not trusting my true voice yet, and Peter ruffled my already sleep-touselled hair.

"Of course not," he chuckled, and I immediately gave him another hug.

"You sound a lot better," I announced, and Peter coughed into a fist before standing again.

"Yeah," He admitted. "I'm taking off for the rest of the week so I won't accidentally make myself relapse."

I snorted, rubbing my hands over my face. "I would kill you if that happened," I teased, and curled right back under the covers. "Thank you," I added, and he touched my face once, before bending down to kiss my forehead.

"I should be thanking you, munchkin, for taking care of me."

I yawned, and turned over, hugging the pillow to my chest. The idea of having a full day off from school without worrying about the reprecions suited me fine. When I woke up around eight, I joined Peter in the living room. He sat on the couch wrapped in blankets, sipping from a cup of tea, and watched the evening news on television. I sat down beside him, and the two of us smiled at each other. No words were needed...he put his arm around my shoulders, and allowed me to use his own as a pillow.

When the news ended around nine thirty, Peter let out a yawn into his fist, and announced he was going to bed. "You should, too," he added, "especially since you're going back to school tomorrow." he rubbed his nose, and I sighed, draping an arm over the edge of the couch.

"Thank God you're better," I breathed once I stood to give him a hug, and he smiled. "I just didn't want to have to say goodbye, not when I'm finally getting to know you. And I love you."

"I love you too, Munchkin," Peter insisted. "Probably more than you can imagine." He gave my cheek a gentle pinch, just before breaking off to sneeze into the crook of his arm.

"Bless you," I laughed.

"Ugh...that was was charming," He croaked when he straightened up.

"Id hate to see your allergies work up," I replied, and he made a face.

"If you're lucky you won't," he said, and cleared his throat before giving me a final wave as he headed into his room for the night. I stood watching as he shut the glass door behind him, wrapping my arms around myself and heading slowly towards my own.

This had been the longest week of my life, even longer than when Zach and I realized the tapes I made of my abilities had gone missing, or the week following Jackie's murder. If I had lost Peter, my world would have been shattered. He was my best friend, and the thought of his being so close to death's door terrified me.

I lay my outfit out on the chair for school, and made sure I had everything in my backpack. I smiled as I remembered Peter's comment about Nathan sticking up for me to the school principal, and was so glad to be part of this strange new family.

Peter improved a lot over the next couple of days, and little by little started to get back into his old routine. I felt a surge of worry when he came out of his bedroom wearing his scrubs in the middle of the week, and he laughed at the expression on my face.

"Claire, you knew I'd have to go back eventually," he said, and I nodded, fiddling with the spoon in my hand. When I returned to school, no one really made a big deal about my absence. A lot of students were out sick with the flu, so they didn't think much of it when I was gone for a week.

"I guess the thought of you being around sick people again scares me a little," I admitted, and he sat down to pour himself some cereal as well.

"I'll be fine," he promised.

After breakfast the two of us got ready to proceed into the bitter winter weather, and just before we parted ways my Uncle gave me a hug and quick kiss on top of the head.

"Have a good day," he announced, and I smiled.

"Thanks," I replied. "Don't work too hard yourself."

He winked before waving, and I hurried down the road towards Manhattan High.


End file.
